


Sing it if You Understand

by stardropdream



Category: Chobits
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ueda catches Yumi dancing in the baker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing it if You Understand

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ December 24, 2010. 
> 
> Holiday fic for asherfoxx! All her requests were for Ueda and Yumi and I totally set out to write the one about PDA and then it somehow became the dancing one. Sob.

  
Yumi is humming cheerfully, whisking the bowl of flour and sugar together, swaying her hips in time to the song in her head. Her hair is curled around her cheeks, bouncing whenever she shakes her head from side to side, eyes closed and lips quirked into a smile. If she knows he is there, she is doing a good job of hiding it. Probably, though, she thinks he’s still in the front, taking care of the customers as she prepares the red velvet cake ordered earlier that morning.   
  
Ueda is blushing, but doesn’t stop watching her for a moment, torn between letting her know she’s there and her, therefore, stopping, or to let her continue—if he takes the latter, when she does know he’s there, she’ll just be even more flustered over it.   
  
He clears his throat. “Yumi-chan?”  
  
And she does stop immediately, eyes widening as she whips around with a quiet squeak, blushing for half a moment before she covers her embarrassment with a laugh. “Sorry! I’ll get back to work!”  
  
“N-no, it’s fine,” he protests, holding up his hands as means of surrender.   
  
Yumi ducks her head, whisking quickly, her wrist flipping in its rotation, and she focuses on the movement. “I thought… you were at the front.”   
  
“Um,” Ueda says, because he can’t think of what else to say.   
  
They both stand in an awkward silence, the only sound coming from Yumi’s whisking.   
  
“Um,” Ueda says again. He admits, quietly, “I thought you were cute.”  
  
She looks up at him, and then smiles. “I don’t usually sing in front of people.”   
  
“You were only humming, though,” Ueda protests.   
  
Yumi laughs. “Well, singing in my head, then!”   
  
“Oh,” he says, feeling himself blush, too. “Well. Yumi-chan is a nice dancer.”  
  
She laughs, a bit nervously. “Oh geez. Not really!”   
  
“But—!”  
  
She laughs, and waves her hand holding the whisk. A few wisps of flour float in the air. “That’s sweet of you to say, though.”   
  
“But—” Ueda starts to protest.  
  
“I bet you’re much better at it than I am,” Yumi says, and her eyes sparkle, as if secretly hoping he’ll prove her right, or, better yet, prove her wrong.  
  
He clears his throat. “Um.”  
  
She giggles. And then she sets the bowl down, wipes her hands over her apron and adjusts some of the ruffles of her uniform. He stands there, feeling stupid, as Yumi walks up to him, lifting her hands to adjust the flap of his uniform, and leaves her hands there.  
  
“Dance with me?” she asks, and does look shy, as if he will laugh in her face, as if he could possibly say no.  
  
He blushes further. “There’s no music.”  
  
Yumi starts to hum, and sways a little. She guides his hands to her hips, and he feels her move. He closes his eyes, blushing, and she kisses his cheek, still swaying. He stands there, feeling childish and wooden in his movements as he tries to sway in turn. His movements are blocky and unnatural, but she just strokes her hands over his shoulder, giggling a little hopelessly—not at him, but in earnest embarrassment. He smiles back, lopsided, and she bites at her lip as she smiles, so that one corner kicks up higher than the other.   
  
“See?” she says, as they finally begin to sway in time. “Much nicer than me.”  
  
He wants to protest, but then she steps closer and he forgets whatever he was going to say. The hands on his shoulders slip away and she curls her arms around his neck, standing on the tips of her toes to accommodate the movement, smiling as they meet eye to eye.   
  
“I don’t think…” he starts to say.  
  
Her smile widens and she shakes her head. “I think we should keep our day jobs, though. I don’t know if professional dancing is in our future.”  
  
He cracks a small smile around his flustering and his blushes, and when she laughs again he finds himself laughing too. He almost has the urge to dip her, but then fears that his clumsiness would leave her sprawled out on the floor. So instead he grasps her hand and slowly spins her before drawing her back to him.  
  
She is all smiles when she returns to him.


End file.
